"I want to say," burst from Moriway, "that she looks the image of the boy Nat, who stole Mrs. Kingdon's diamonds, that the voice is exactly the same, that—"
"But you have said it, Mr. Moriway—quite successfully intimated it, I assure you."
"She knows of my—of Mrs. Kingdon's marriage, that that boy Nat found out about."
"And you yourself also, as Miss Omar mentioned."
"Myself? Damn it, I'm Moriway, the man she was going to marry. Why shouldn't I—"
"Ah—h!" Latimer's shoulders shook with a gentle laugh. "Well, Mr. Moriway, gentlemen don't swear in my garden. Particularly when ladies are present. Shall we say good evening? Here comes Mulhill now.... Nothing, Sergeant? Too bad the rogue escaped, but you'll catch him. They may get away from you, but they never stay long, do they? Good evening—good evening, Mr. Moriway."
They tramped on and out, Moriway's very back showing his rage. He whispered something to the Sergeant, who turned to look at me but shook his head, and the gate clanged after them.
A long sigh escaped me.
"Warm, isn't it?" Latimer leaned forward. "Now, would you mind ringing again, Miss Omar?"
I bent and groped for the bell and rang it twice.